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Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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it's not charming or flattering when you "fondly reminisce" via text message about all the times we've had sex together. this is probably so because it happened 10 years ago. why the fuck would i remember? i didn't take notes or have your skillset tattooed on my arm. i don't care. if i did care, i would still be trying to fuck you, but i'm not so what does that tell you?
on the upside, i may be going to LA soon. these two observations are not at all related.
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i was wandering down a random aisle and next to the ant killers & roach bombs is a whole section of pantyliners and maxi pads. BUT NO TAMPONS. just "external protection." WTF? i needed tampons!
great, so now i have to go to the drugstore instead. on the upside, i got toilet paper and tomatoes.
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Title: Oxtail Stew
Yield: 1
Ingredients
4 lb oxtails cut into 2-inch
-pieces
1 c virgin spanish olive oil
1 lg spanish onion; finely
-chopped
1 green bell pepper; chopped
1 red bell pepper; chopped
5 cloves garlic; finely
-chopped
1/2 c tomato paste
1 tb black pepper
1 ts oregano
1 ts cumin
2 bay leaves
1 c vino seco; (dry red cooking
1 ; wine)
1 salt to taste
Instructions
Season the oxtail with the salt and black pepper. In a kettle large enough
to
hold the oxtails, add 1/2 cup of virgin olive oil. Heat the oil and add the
oxtail making sure you brown all sides. Once this is done, transfer the
oxtails from the oil to a warm plate. In the same kettle add the remaining
1/2
cup of oil and heat. Then add onions, bell peppers, and garlic to make the
"sofrito". Stir this mixture for about 10 minutes. Add the rest of the
ingredients and re-introduce the oxtails to the kettle. Stir well and
simmer
over medium heat for 2 to 3 hours or until the meat easily pulls away from
the
bone. Serve with white rice, double fried plantains, and avocado salad if
in
season.
Yield: 6 servings
Converted by MC_Buster.
Per serving: 284 Calories (kcal); 2g Total Fat; (6% calories from fat); 11g
Protein; 65g Carbohydrate; 0mg Cholesterol; 1053mg Sodium
Food Exchanges: 1/2 Grain(Starch); 0 Lean Meat; 11 Vegetable; 0 Fruit; 0
Fat; 0 Other Carbohydrates
only add in some serrano peppers, maybe a scotchbonnet to the sofrito. don't need all that oil to brown - use non stick pan & non stick spray. add in water and use the fat rendered out of the oxtail. also be sure to coat the oxtail w/ flour first before browning. wtf, who doesn't do this shit.
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i'm going to have to see this again. AB and i went to see it last night and if his goddamn mobile device hadn't been flashing in my eyes the entire time, i would have been 100% engrossed. it is no secret that i believe michael mann is a genius. i could swear the scene where dillinger first meets with his lawyer in prison - it is an homage to the prison scene in "manhunter." also, a lot of the action/shoot out scenes were reminiscent of "heat" and "miami vice" and that is exactly why he is so good with this genre. depp was charming and likable as dillinger, and crudup was awkward and perfect as hoover. total waste of channing tatum but OK, i guess i can go see "GI joe."
the only complaint i have is the slightly jerky camerawork but hey, it added to the action. the last scene is heartbreaking. cotillard is so beautiful.
i can't even put into words how amazing this movie is.
go!
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i have been awake since 4:30am. this is result of me going to bed at 11pm but come on, dude. at least let me get some real sleep! all i did was toss and turn while my two cats tap danced on my forehead like they were fucking emmanuel lewis. what assholes, they even had top hats & canes.
i was all prepared to be a total p.o.s. (that's "piece of shit" to you!) and laze malodorously on my couch this afternoon but my friend called me up and the desperation in his voice was palpable. OK, fine, come over, i told him. he meandered in with a swollen lip. i guess in his mushroom steeped, booze induced haze last night, he got into a fight with his girlfriend of three months and they broke up. ever self-destructive (knowing me, knowing you!) he went to a party in his building and claims he got punched by a midget. uh. my friend is 6'2.
"did the midget request a step stool first or something?" i asked, incredulous.
"i don't know," he shrugged. "i think maybe the bouncers did it at his bidding."
then he showed me the abrasions on his arm, on the opposite side of his lip wound. "this is where i fell, i guess."
then he admitted he was in the neighborhood because he was going to buy heroin a few blocks from my apartment. alarm bells went off in my head. i mean, WAIT, THEY SELL DRUGS AROUND HERE? (this also explains why whenever i used to walk up & down that block to go to nash's apartment, there were always kids loitering on the stoops and eying me suspiciously) OK, i guess i live near a popular "cop spot." as you know, i have lost many friends to H. like, way too many. and i'm not going to get all pious because i have tried that shit a couple times but i was smart enough to not do it ever again. (also i don't like barfing) i slapped my friend in the face, something he hates. i didn't know what else to do! it reminds me of the time when JB told me he was using heroin and i got so mad that i sputtered, "i wish i had AIDS so that i could have given it to you when i took your virginity" and that made him cry. GOOD, fucking cry, you asshole. i'm not going to watch you throw your life down the drain over a fucking ten dollar bag of smack.
anyway. we had a couple beers and watched a really ridiculous but awesome movie about prisoners killing each other on a tropical island starring STONE COLD steve austin and that hot british thug life guy vinnie jones. then we went out for a bahn mi, which he ate and i nibbled at all "this tastes like chicken salad" because it was curried chicken and not a traditional one with paté and pickles. we sat on havemeyer, right next to the cop spot and i got mad when he brought up drugs again and he said he wouldn't ever do drugs with me anyway because i'm "such a bummer" which made me even more angry so i slapped him again and he got super pissed (also his lip was all purple despite my giving him an ice pack earlier). whatever. he promised that he wouldn't do any "today." which was yesterday. and now i'm like OK ASSHOLE, i'm going to call him in a couple hours and be like HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. even if we just go to the fucking park and i drink an arnold palmer and we smoke a shit ton of cigarettes, it's still better than knowing my dumb fucking friend could be dead.
anyway this isn't supposed to make me feel "better" about myself because this weekend i drank way too much, felt like a fucking piece of shit and decided i really, really need to clean my apartment because even i can't think it's "charmingly messy" anymore but a total hovel of disaster and despair. dude. when you can throw away entire bags full of clothes and not miss them - that's a sign right there that you have too much fucking clothing. (p.s. don't get on my back about donating because i recently had a moth infestation and that shit was awful and so many of my expensive cashmere sweaters and wool dresses were riddled with holes and i wanted to cry but oh well, such is life!)
can i take a nap yet?
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backstory: T and i are old friends, having known each other for 15 or so years. for a very brief moment we "dated" back in 2001. by "dated" i mean it was the most half-assed thing ever since he is a pothead and every time he promised to come visit me, he found some reason to not. i gave it three chances and then moved on.
for some reason T is now convinced he is in love with me. uh. no. he has asked me to marry him repeatedly, offering to fly me to vegas. OK, this is a sweet concept but consider that after i said "no" (why would i say yes?) he went and got engaged to some other girl. they are no longer together. now he is trying to pursue me again. look, i understand being in the early 30's and wondering "gee, how will i not die alone?" but seriously, this approach smacks of desperation. and it doesn't make me feel very special, to be honest. (now i know how murray feels, ugh)
anyway. T sent me a text message this morning whining about how i make him feel like a jerk. i replied, "if you feel like a jerk it's your own doing." what kind of passive aggressive whiny bullshit is that? i don't need this crap right now.
i know, i sound like a total cunt.
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i am making rosti, which is basically a fancy swiss way to say hash browns.
potatoes are boiling now.
i really wish i liked onions more as i'm 100% certain their addition would add a lot more flavor but nope, i'm the boss of this fucking stovetop and there shan't be any. sorry.
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trim your bangs
make hash browns
actually both turned out OK. i woke up and realized i'd only left a small strand of hair uncut so a quick snip and now i just like i had a close encounter with a hedge trimmer. sexy.
and the hash browns were surprisingly OK considering i couldn't find a grater, considered using a ricer but instead used my vegetable peeler. how i didn't slice my fingers off is beyond me.
now i have heartburn. it's probably time to lay off consuming mass quantities of tomato products. fie! i guess today i will instead eat steamed tofu & broccoli. i know, some people would think that is a punishment but i love that crap. also, time to get an egg roll. it's been so long since i've had one that i will treat myself to something disgusting and deep fried. this is the good thing about PMS. you can justify just about anything.
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inexorable headache (most likely due to barometric pressure)
PMS
split lip
all i want to do is sleep or cry or laze about eating tomatoes. oh, i'm fairly certain that my over-consumption of tomatoes has caused my lip to split, what with all of that acid. combine my addiction to tomatoes with my inability to resist hot sauce and constantly wiping my mouth and you have a very bloody and lethal combination.
alas, i didn't make it out to long island today for old punk rock/hardcore kid festivities such as shopping at roosevelt field mall and ordering vegan food at chili's (where the disgruntled chefs cooks toss bacon and egg whites on your order, if not just plain old spit) and going to long beach at night to run around at night. if i could bring a wheelbarrow on the LIRR, then maybe it'd work. i'd look like a chinese version of an ostrich burying its head in the sand only there wouldn't be any sand, maybe just a shit ton of eggplant parmesan and laura mercier loose powder.
oh man haha what an image.
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please take the time to list the five best meals you've ever eaten.
i may have written about this since we were dating at the time this blog was most active, but i remember an amazing latin restaurant in philadelphia where cooper and i dined upon the most sumptuous meat. i think it was called "cubacon" and is no longer functional. it is probably most memorable because i had a stuffed poblano that was amazing and he got the world's worst gas that rendered him useless for nearly two days afterward. poor cooper. he was a game ally.
other top notch meals for me include:
a dining experience at zenkichi that left me ready to marry my date. good thing we didn't run off!
my first experience at in-n-out in hollywood where i salivated the whole time.
my mother's suppers consisting of bean curd thread soup and oxtail stew. mom, i love you so much! thank you for making me who i am today
the first time i ever ate dinner at les halles. i was in love, heady and romantic. the lamb steak was delicious. the wine was generous and constantly flowing. oh, the escargot was unctuous and worth writing home about. i probably did.
the tomato i ate sprinkled liberally with salt while on a boat somewhere in the northern atlantic.
the late dinner i had with friends at nobu a few years ago. oh, masaharu morimoto! you are a god! truly so.
i know, i went above and beyond five meals but i can't help but link amazing food to great company. sometimes good friends and a decent plate of pasta will be enough. if you can't appreciate that, well, then what do you have?
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Ingredients:
* 6 large potatoes, peeled and diced into 1-inch squares
* 2 eggs
* 2 large handfuls fresh spinach, trimmed and washed
* 1 onion, finely chopped
* 1 carrot, halved and finely chopped
* Extra-virgin olive oil
* 1 cup heavy cream
* 2 good handfuls grated Cheddar or Parmesan
* 1 lemon, juiced
* 1 heaping teaspoon English mustard
* 1 large handful flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
* 1 pound haddock or fresh cod fillet, skin removed, pin-boned and sliced into strips
* Salt and freshly ground black pepper
* Nutmeg, optional
What’s Next:
Go ahead & preheat your oven to 450 F or 230 C.
Put the potatoes into salted boiling water and bring back to a boil for 2 minutes. Carefully add the eggs to the pan and cook for a further 8 minutes until hard boiled, by which time the potatoes should also be cooked.
At the same time, steam the spinach in a colander above the pan. This will only take a minute. When the spinach is done, remove from the colander and gently squeeze any excess moisture away. Then drain the potatoes in the colander. Remove the eggs, cool under cold water, then peel and quarter them. Set aside.
In a separate pan slowly fry the onion and carrot in a little olive oil for about 5 minutes, then add the heavy cream, and bring just to a boil. Remove from the heat and add the cheese, lemon juice, mustard, and parsley.
Put the spinach, fish and eggs into an appropriately sized earthenware dish and mix together, pouring over the creamy vegetable sauce. The cooked potatoes should be drained and mashed, add a bit of olive oil, salt, pepper, and a touch of nutmeg, if you like.
Spread on top of the fish. Don’t bother piping it to make it look pretty, it’s a homely hearty thing. Place in the oven for about 25 to 30 minutes until the potatoes are golden. Serve with some nice peas or greens, not forgetting the baked beans and tomato ketchup. Tacky but tasty, and that’s what I like.
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it seems maury only does three kinds of programs:
who's your baby's daddy?
sexy makeovers
scare your bad kid straight by throwing her into boot camp
i might be losing brain cells watching this. i mean, what does it say if i'm watching springer and finding him a relief?
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the bar downstairs keeps playing "sitting on the dock of the bay" or whatever that otis redding song is, and while it's a perfectly fine song, i don't need to hear it on repeat for three hours. at nearly 4am. i mean come on. it's closing time. everybody finish up your fucking beers and leave. as the saying goes, "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." well, this is my home so get the fuck out!
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i just unloaded three unopened boxes of whole wheat pasta onto my friend jamie who so kindly offered to take them. i was like, shoving them into her hands, all "please take this, not my wife, and get it the fuck out of here." god, just thinking about that brown taste is making me feel sick to my stomach. why am i so anti-whole wheat pasta? i'm a purist, a classicist, and whole wheat does not belong in pasta! i don't even like buckwheat noodles so much. give me pure flour & water blended to a glycemic rate killing paste and put it into my face NOW.
oddly though, i really like whole wheat & multi grain breads. look, bread is a whole different vehicle and should be used to transfer butter or herbed olive oils from a dish into your mouth.
there is a new ramen place that opened up near my apartment and i'm going to try and check it out sometime this week. unfortunately there doesn't seem to be anything that isn't steeped with the juices of land animal flesh, but you know what? who the fuck am i fooling with this "i only eat seafood" routine when the other day i had two pieces of my mother's curried oxtail? girl, you were spotted at motherfucking baci eating braised lamb shanks. everybody knows you are totally fronting.
which reminds me, i have some shrimp in the fridge and i need to do something with them before they go horribly wrong.
are there any health benefits or negatives to eating tomato based products three times a day? i swear to god, i just ate an entire container of campari™ tomatoes and made broccoli tomato soup and had some red sauce over shirataki noodles yesterday. that was it. tomatoes and wine, oh my god, i am so italian, only i'm chinese. i should just move to tuscany now and marry some guy with a 500 acre vineyard.
p.s. i am done with craigslist.
p.p.s. i am, however, not done w/ match.com or OKstupid.
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i think something is very wrong with me, especially after poring through friends' facebook profiles. right there, i know that's the issue. dude, you are not supposed to compare your own life to someone else's. but when a good 35-50% of your friends are married or bonus, married and toting a couple of DNA clingers on, you start to think, "hey, where did i go wrong?" where is my betrothed, my forever more love? nevermind that you don't really know anymore if you even believe in marriage. nevermind that you were already once knocked up and ran straight to the clinic to have that "cellular growth removed." you had your chance, honey! you dropped the ball and the fetus. literally, girl.
just because everyone from your social circles during your late teens/early twenties wore ridiculous clothes, sported outlandish hairstyles and got a shit ton of tattoos and dumb piercings, that doesn't mean they were really "alternative." they were just jocks and nerds and failed sorority girls or cheerleaders trying a new look, maybe to piss off their parents. you want proof? look at them now. they've gotten fat, stodgy, become alcoholics or drug addicts. or worse, they have become born-again christians or pro-life. hey, remember when we sang about unity ten years ago? now you're voting republican?
but you. let's talk about you again. and by "you" i mean me.
you stayed true to yourself. you were a pervert and a fuck up, always were. never did you try to hide that or subvert your personality to appease other people.
OK, so you're too crazy to be loved. and too wackadoo to love.
maybe that's not so bad, i mean, compared to trying to shed fifty pounds of post-baby weight, coping with a cheating husband or stuck in a pathless career. you just have two cats who require nothing more than daily feedings and weekly poop scoopings, an apartment that you can never manage to keep clean and a really nice landlord who lets you send in your rent checks four months late. also, you can fuck anyone you want. not too shabby, right?
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Saturday, June 27th, 2009
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my stupid cat beldar keeps attacking my hair. the second i put it into a bun or a braid, he's all clawing at it like it is an expensive piece of furniture. dude, relax. it's some fucking dead keratin attached to the top of my skull. quit it already.
of course tonight when i have a massive belly ache my friend is in town from pittsburgh. so sorry sugar but i won't be able to hang out. instead i am smoking a cigarette and watching a really disappointing season of "harper's island." some program! apparently if you fall in love with a dude, said dude will turn out to be a killer. figures. i'm lucky i haven't been flayed or filleted yet after having met bobby. thanks a lot, CBS. you seem to think america is full of morons who can't appreciate a well-nuanced plot. even kevin williamson gave us more credit than that.
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and specifically using it for dating:
1. as a picky grammarian, i weed out all the people who cannot properly discern the difference between "your" and "you're." it drives me insane. really. like front seat of a late model BMW or something right to the fucking nuthouse. this can be problematic because hey, hot guys can be dumb. wait, we don't want a dumb guy, right? wait, is "dumb" measured by one's ability to use MLA or chicago style formatting? anyway, this wouldn't be a problem if you met said dumb dude at a bar because he won't be typing out "hey, i like your cologne. what's your name? you're really pretty." you can just judge the homeboy based on his baseball cap (or lack thereof), french cuff shirt or teeth.
2. "LOL." any relation to it. are you really LOLing? are you now? just type "hahaha" like i do, OK? ROTFLMAO sounds like the gurgle someone makes after choking on a chicken bone. for that matter, i try to avoid all abbreviations. are those extra keystrokes that precious that you can't type "your" instead of "yr?" did you know that there are some crazy abbreviations that teenagers use like POS? that means "parent over shoulder." what the fuck are you kids doing that you can't type about it in front of your mom or dad? alternately though, i have used "POS" to refer to myself as a "piece of shit." what, do as i say, not as i do, OK?
3. nudes, or as they are often spelled, "n00dz." granted, i've sent out my own embarrassing fair share of these to random strangers but how willing am i to flash the beans at a stranger at a bar? OK, i have done that before but you know what i mean. hiding behind a computer screen makes the wanton, daring act seem so much safer. yeah, safe until it's posted on some messageboard and everyone can figure out those are your boobs because of a birthmark.
anyway, i'm sure there's more but i have to reply to a bunch of instant messages where guys are trying to lure me into a conversation via LOLcat speak. yes, yes you can have a cheeseburger.
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Thursday, June 25th, 2009
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look, if you are a euro, please don't think you're all cool and ask me, "how do you like my cowboy boots?" because my inevitable answer will be, "oh, i don't." i'm sorry, there are no such thing as german cowboys. not even an austrian ranch hand. ONLY AMERICANS, preferably ones that live in texas, are allowed to wear cowboy boots. everyone else, put on some fucking nikes and call it a day, OK?
thank you.
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it was so sweet and tender being with the german tonight. he is a total gentleman, kind and handsome. i would be totally enamored if i weren't so fucked up. that part makes me feel a little sad. he was chivalrous and walked me home after a lovely evening out.
now i am home watching "top chef masters" and drooling because rick bayliss is a god. i don't even like mexican food but this man can do no wrong.
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Wednesday, June 24th, 2009
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i'm meeting the german later tonight. i haven't seen him in over a month. whoah, talk about taking it slow. tonight will be our second date. i am feeling a touch barfy so who knows what will happen. (this is the part where we time lapse to four hours later and i am vomiting all over his khaki pants while simultaneously trying to eat a ham sandwich or something disgusting.) last time we saw each other, i drank a shit ton of wine and kissed him all politely on the mouth goodnight, no tongue or anything sleazy. i told josh about him and he was like, "that's good! taking it slow is good!" he's so smug right now because he's in the midst of rekindling his relationship with G.
the humidity has me feeling so angry. also, looking at stupid facebook & seeing JB being in a relationship (well he downgraded it from "married" to "in a complicated relationship" to just being in a regular ole relationship) is making me want to tear my hair out. i know, i'm the one who initiated our breakup last year, and i wasn't even into him in that way but i hate how i'm alerted to the nuances of every one of my former lovers' personal lives. fuck you, internet. i should just "hide" him. i'm being a big whiny fucking baby because i can. it's my journal and i'll cry if i motherfucking want to. actually, i don't want to cry.
i just need to make some changes. mikey told me that the other day. shit, i've been telling myself this for years, and i'd like to think i've made some progress. i am off xanax. i'm not blacking out anymore. granted, i did partake in some risky behavior (oh, high school sex ed talk) this week but i will let that be a one off lesson and learn from that (ie: don't do that again, shit head). i need to keep reminding myself of these things.
i don't know why i feel so angsty. maybe it's the being cooped up inside because of the weather thing. maybe it's the three week constant gloomy skies. maybe it's just that i need to eat something that isn't roasted cauliflower or brussel sprouts. on the upside, i am looking svelte yet buxom. yay?
i need to go finish my master's. i suspect my lack of a real job is taking a toll on my emotional happiness. i'm bored. painfully bored. i need to feel some kind of accomplishment and marching down that aisle would be a good thing. plus, what else am i going to do? write ad copy about men's waxing salons for the rest of my life? "back, sack & crack!" yes i actually wrote that.
blah.
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circekills's journal
chipper.
hungry.
awake.
annoyed.
indifferent.
drained.
blah.